Counterattack (2)
The moment the Q&A wrapped and the press conference ended, the room was still buzzing. I stood with Cheon Sojin and we slipped out of the conference hall at an unhurried pace.
Even after the door shut, the murmur leaking from inside still spilled into the corridor.
“……Good work.”
“You too, Team Leader.”
After the brief exchange, an awkward silence hung between us.
“You never ended up saying what you meant to say.”
“……”
Yesterday in the meeting room I had asked Cheon Sojin if I could bring up that story, and she had even given me permission.
But I hadn’t said it. Instead I had only made the meaning crystal clear—“It would be better not to dig any further”—and stopped there.
“You did the right thing.”
Cheon Sojin continued quietly.
“It might feel stifling, but not talking about it is better for your image too, Doyoon.”
She drew a careful breath, then added in a voice so cautious it barely carried.
“……Even if you’re the victim, the world often refuses to take it at face value. Later…… when the time is right, there will be a chance to speak.”
I didn’t answer. I only gave a short nod.
“……Then I’ll go get ready for the game.”
The instant I turned to leave—
“Um…… the energy drink you left behind. That was you, right, Doyoon?”
Her voice caught me by the back. I stopped and only half-turned my head.
Cheon Sojin’s eyes were avoiding mine, yet her expression was softer than usual—the corners of her mouth lifted just enough that she couldn’t quite hide the pleasure.
“I finished it. Thank you.”
“Ah, no. You just looked exhausted……”
An embarrassed laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. Cheon Sojin nodded slightly and smiled in return.
“That’s right. I was completely wiped. You’re sharp, Doyoon.”
“Haha……”
Between the short laughs, the sharp edge that had lingered only moments earlier had already softened.
Then Cheon Sojin spoke as if the thought had just occurred to her.
“Oh—right. I watched the six scoreless innings against the Wales. ……I’m glad.”
At those words I stopped dead.
On the day the general manager green-lit my start, the stiff look on Cheon Sojin’s face had left me sulking alone, awkward alone……
Only now did I realize how small-minded I had been.
The simple, unadorned “I’m glad” she offered right in front of me, the same way she always did.
Deep down I had already known. Because she believed I had the yips, of course she would react that way.
It was only petty, twisted me who had let my feelings run ahead of reason.
My face burned. I never knew embarrassment could feel this vivid.
“…Thank you.”
Whether my voice dropped from shame or from relief, even I couldn’t tell.
Cheon Sojin only smiled gently.
“Go on. You’ve got a game to prepare for.”
I bowed once more and stepped out into the hallway.
A little awkwardness still remained, but the air between us had clearly changed.
The first game of the midweek series between the Wonju Flyers and the Daejeon Titans ended 3–1 in the Titans’ favor.
Almost no one cared about that game.
SNS feeds, portal real-time search rankings, baseball communities—every single one of them was boiling over with only one topic.
Flyers Hold Emergency Press Conference
Operations Team Leader Cheon Sojin: “Player Protection First”
Han Doyoon: “I Did Not Dope” — Direct Rebuttal
Kim Yeongseon’s Remarks Casting Doubt on a Junior… Fallout Inevitable
The comments split into two extremes.
Half the people who watched the press conference decided to believe me; the other half still insisted it was doping. The two sides were locked in a perfect fifty-fifty war.
……Not that I couldn’t understand it.
All I had offered was an explanation for why my velocity had jumped. I hadn’t produced proof that I never doped. If they wanted to keep doubting, fine—for now.
And exactly as I had intended, negative public opinion toward Kim Yeongseon had begun to form.
The one-sided beatdown I had been taking finally started to find some balance.
At the very least, people were beginning to ask themselves who had crossed the line first.
Oh—and there was one reaction I never saw coming.
“……Unbelievable.”
The replies were even worse.
These idiots didn’t care about a single word of the press conference. All they talked about was Team Leader’s face.
Granted, Cheon Sojin was…… no, she was very pretty, but still.
I’m the one who got framed here! Me!!
Stop talking about Team Leader’s face and listen to my side for once!!
……Well.
Even with those ridiculous reactions mixed in, I could feel the voices attacking me had dropped off sharply.
At least no one was openly calling me a “juice monkey” anymore.
And once the doping test results came out, everything would be clear. Then it would be obvious who had been wrong.
Public opinion settled into a temporary lull, and I was finally able to turn my full attention to preparing for the next game.
Time passed, and before I knew it my start day had arrived.
Today’s opponent: the Daejeon Titans.
There was a time when they and our Flyers had been stuck side-by-side in 9th and 10th, endlessly arguing over who was the bigger joke. The Titans of today were a completely different team.
Young talent finally blooming, smart free-agent signings, plus a couple of foreign players who fit like they were custom-made—years of rebuilding had finally paid off and they had taken flight.
The result: the Titans were now a powerhouse sitting in second place, nipping at the heels of the first-place Seoul Wales.
“Let’s go get ’em today.”
Catcher Kim Gyeongmo gave my backside a light slap and headed for home plate.
I drew a quiet breath.
Power Pitcher Lv.1
— Passive
└ Fastball-type stats increased by 5
└ Whiff rate inside the strike zone increased by 10%
— Active: Full Power Pitching
└ When activated, every pitch is locked to maximum velocity. Stamina consumption doubles.
Passive — Diamond Body
└ Stamina increased by 5
└ Immunity to all physical injuries
Passive — Quality Start Lv.1
└ Through the end of the 6th inning, stamina-penalty reduction of 30%
└ Through the end of the 6th inning, opposing batters’ eye/vision reduced by 5
Blockhead Thrower was gone. In its place stood Power Pitcher.
Time to show them the real me.
“Starting pitcher, number 18—Han—Do—yoon!”
The stadium announcer’s call was answered by a mix of cheers and boos from the stands.
People who still thought I was a juicer were booing me, but the man standing on the mound was a pitcher.
Pitcher. The player who stands on the raised dirt in the middle of the diamond and throws the ball toward the catcher for the batter to hit.
In baseball, if the pitcher doesn’t throw, the batter, the fielders, even the umpires might as well be dead. Only the instant the ball leaves the pitcher’s fingertips does the game begin to breathe.
So right now, in this stadium, the most important person was me.
The people cursing me could scream all they wanted. Call me whatever they liked, doubt me however they liked. I had something far more important to do.
“Play ball!”
At the umpire’s cry the batter stepped into the box.
Leadoff hitter Son Gwangseop.
The left-handed lead-off man the Titans had acquired in a trade this year. Age had caught up with him, but his elite contact skills, baseball IQ, and leadership still made him the heart of the Titans’ lineup.
— Four-seam.
Catcher Kim Gyeongmo put down the sign. High and away.
I settled my breathing and whispered inside my head.
Activate Full Power Pitching.
Full Power Pitching
Stamina consumption doubled.
Heat flared from my shoulder straight down to my elbow. My muscles felt like they were swelling right up to the edge of explosion.
I lifted my left foot lightly and drove it down as if stamping the ground.
— Shiiiiik!
The ball tore into the catcher’s mitt like it meant to rip the leather apart.
“Strike!”
The number that lit up on the scoreboard:
157 km/h.
It had drifted a little more inside than I intended, yet Son Gwangseop never even twitched at the difference of a single handspan. He flinched backward, then stepped out of the box and took a few big practice swings, trying to recalibrate his timing.
Active Skill — Full Power Pitching.
The effect was absolute.
My absolute top velocity of 157 km/h had registered on the very first pitch.
Heat still poured through my shoulder; my muscles stayed swollen to the brink of detonation, ready to unload everything they had.
— Four-seam.
Having confirmed that Son Gwangseop couldn’t react, Kim Gyeongmo called for the exact same pitch, exact same location.
I slowly tugged my cap lower and smiled.
Back then…… I would have been sweating bullets, terrified a wild pitch was coming next.
In the days when I still carried Blockhead Thrower, even when a pitch landed perfectly I always felt a knot of unease in one corner of my chest. This one was good—but what about the next one? Would it sail?
Not anymore.
I could trust the ball I threw.
That single fact felt more reliable than even a 157 km/h fastball.